Every writer should be so lucky

And you can be, for a 2 or 4 or 8 week stay away from home. And, well, $45 per day. But what price solitude, both inside and out, the inspiration of spring and flowers and budding trees? And, like today,(Saturday) a gentle rain. At Dairy Hollow --below the Crescent Hotel--you can eat in the main house during the weekends or bring food to your room. For those in residence during the third Thursday, you are lucky enough to get to read during Poetluck, the meeting of local writers who gather to (potluck) eat, visit and participate (or not) in a read around that is not only poetry. In years past, I read poetry, but this year I read a chapter from my (hopefully) novel-to-be. With, I'm happy to say, outbreaks of laughter during (especially the cookie sheet and muffin tin shields and the kitchen fork swords) and compliments afterwards. You'll be hearing more about Dairy Hollow--I have 10 more glorious days at the foot of a mountain. Lucky me.

On my way to the mountains

In 18 hours, I'll be snuggily ensconced in the Spring Garden room at Dairy Hollow's Writers' Colony, Eureka Springs, AR. It will be my home for fourteen days. My goal is to finish this forever-in-progress novel I've been at for ten or so years. Since I failed to finish it during 2008,I'll try again.
It will be spring by the time my residency is over, so here are some anticipatory poems.
"pear-motif house flag/ furls in the gentle March breeze/ green shoots in dead leaves".
"scraggly plant/ rescued by mother-in-law's/ green thumb and new dirt"
"the Big Dipper/ spills into the smaller one/ last night at the lake"
"Easter thunderstorm/ does yellow rainwater mean/ the pollen's gone?"
The luck o' the Irish to each of you.